Don't...Don't You Want Me?

After the jubilation had died down, all the ladies wanted to view the engagement ring, organise the wedding location, date and dresses. Meanwhile, the men adjourned to the billiards room for brandies and cigars.

*********

As Helen already had the big white wedding. She decided to have an intimate family wedding using the chapel at Hazelhurst Private Girls School at the beginning of summer six months later. Helen invited a number of her closest school friends and their spouses'. Including her former boss and mentor from Prescott & Wharton, Tom, and his wife, Mary.**

Stephanie was Helen's flower girl, and a longtime old school chum (Bethany) was Helen's matron of honour. Of course, Bob was my best man.

The small reception was held in the Hazelhurst School ballroom and catered by the school's kitchen. Ever, the entertainers I played the piano while Helen sang a few of her favourite hit songs. Getting rave reviews from our families and friends.

We honeymooned on the small island of Bermuda for two weeks. I insisted that Stephanie come with us on the honeymoon. After all, we were now a family. Besides, with a two-bedroom suite, Helen and I would have enough privacy.

Our flight from Heathrow arrived near ten at night, at Bermuda's L.F. Wade International Airport. It took another hour to drive to the resort. We were all so tired by then; we just headed off to our bedrooms to sleep.

I opened my eyes to the light tropical breeze and warm sunlight entering through the balcony doorway and felt Helen's fingers clasping my morning erection. I rolled onto my side to kiss Helen good morning; she responded with a passionate kiss and moaned softly.

"It looks like a beautiful morning," she said.

"Spectacular," I replied as she squeezed my cock.

"Do you think we have time?" she whispered between kisses.

I rolled onto my back, Helen moved to straddle me and began to rub her vulva back and forth over my erect cock. I could feel her lubrication start to coat my cock and her sensitised labia with a mixture of my pre-cum. As we continued to kiss and fondle with growing passion. Helen reached down and held my erect cock, pointing upwards. She fitted me into her love passage and slowly lowered herself onto my shaft, sighing all the while.

I groaned out, "oh, you're so tight," as my cock sank into her warm wet depth until I was fully immersed into her body.

"Oh...oh...so good, sooo wonderfully good," moan Helen.

She rocked her body back and forth on me, squashing her cilt on my pubic bone, getting maximum contact and pleasure. Bending forward, she offered her swollen nipples to my mouth and tongue. Then cried out, "Oh...oh...I think I'm in heaven."

My hands reached around and grasped her bouncing bottom cheeks, and I started to bounce them up and down on my cock while thrusting upwards into her tight pussy increasing our pleasure. Reaching our peak, I ejected my load into her warm tunnel, at the same time, I could feel Helen's pussy pulsing around my shaft. Then she fell forward onto me with my cock still buried deep in her.

We lay together in each other's arms for a short time. I started to disengage myself; Helen whispered, "don't move, leave him in me a bit longer, please."

We were still coming down from our sexual high when there was a rapping on the door. A small voice called out, "it's time to get up."

Helen smirked, whispering, "he has already been up, as far as he can go." Stephanie continued without hearing, "I have made cups of tea for everyone and cannot open the door with the tray in my hands."

Calling out to Stephanie, "just a moment, your mother is off to the shower. I am going to open the door." Slipping on a boxer's shorts to let Stephanie in. The tea was just what I needed to replenish my recent energy drain. I thanked Stephanie for her thoughtfulness.

Two weeks in Bermuda was all too short, and we were soon winging our way back to merry old England.

Arriving back at the Estate, Helen discovers her new recording was smashing the music charts becoming her fourth Top 40 song that year.

It was only a short time after getting back from our holiday. Helen informed me she was pregnant, and both families were ecstatic.

While we were away, the so-called gatekeeper's cottage renovation had started. Originally with some eight rooms, the architect planned to turn every second room into an ensuite and finish up with four bedrooms and a large master bedroom with, walk-in wardrobe for each of us on the second floor. Stephanie was ecstatic to have a private bathroom.

A four-car garage was constructed in the same design using similar brickwork to make it compatible with the original cottage. A new modern kitchen, lounge and dining rooms were re-plastered and painted. And a music room for me. The house was decorated by both our mothers using some of Helen's song earnings. It was a mansion compared to our small two-bedroom apartment in the city. Six months later, we all moved in.

It was a Saturday afternoon just after lunch. I was sitting in my music room when Stephanie came to the door and asked. "Peter, are you doing anything important?

I replied, "got a tune in my head. But, unfortunately, it just won't come out!"

"Let's take a horse ride around the Estate."

"Why?"

"You got Mum's preggers, so she can't ride at the moment; therefore, you're my next choice!" She told me frankly.

Looking at her timidly, "aaaah, I can't ride."

"Well, now is a good time to start. Riding will get that tune out." Stephanie encouraged me.

"Really?" I laughed.

"Come on, Peter, I've got just the horse for you," holding out her hand.

Old Betty was her name, big and round; she looks part dray horse. Stephanie showed me how to saddle up. With some effort, I managed to get into the saddle without going over the other side. Next, Stephanie demonstrated how to turn your horse in the direction you wanted. Advising, "use your knees as well, keeping the reins firm."

True to her word Betty was easy to ride. She simply followed Stephanie's horse as we circumnavigated the Estate. Stephanie kept up a constant chatter, what her school friends were doing, the latest Disney movies and other movies her mother had a band. She was thrilled to have joined the school choir and wanted to become a theatre group member.

Arriving back at the barn, Stephanie showed how to wipe Betty down, bush her coat, check her water, and put out some feed.

As we were walking back to the cottage, the melody that I had running around my head just popped into my consciousness. "I got it, thanks, Stephanie." I hugged her and hurried back to my music room.

The ride became a Saturday afternoon ritual. It was Helen who noticed it first. We had just returned from our weekly father-step-daughter ride, and without me realising it, Stephanie had stopped calling me Peter and now called me DAD.

********

The pressure from fans and the music company on Helen to have a live concert with more hits on the Top 40 charts was overwhelming. Concert organisers hoped to get somewhere around one-hundred-thousand attendees. They offered Helen top billing and three million pounds for a two-hour concert. The organisers suggested that Helen may make as much as a million pounds on CD's and merchandise sales alone. So we decided to go ahead with a live concert before our baby was due.

We arrived in Leeds Roundhay Park, northern England, on the day we did the usual sound and equipment checks in the morning. Helen was three months pregnant, just starting to show, and would only be on stage for two hours. Free passes for our parents, sister's family to attend. Bobbie William was the other performer on the night. It was suggested, he and Helen do a duet on stage for the first song of his two-hour show.

On stage, before Helen started singing, she introduced me as her songwriter, lover, husband and father of her children. Who would accompany her throughout the show?

Then she began the concert...

Near the end of our two hours on stage, Helen announced, "Peter and I are expecting our first child. This song is dedicated to our baby." Getting loud clapping and cheering from the attendees. Helen disclosed the title of the last song for the night. She told the assembled crowd of its history, saying, "Peter wrote this song while studying music at university and was not specially written for any specific singer, as another well-known artist had claimed."

Her singing of the song spellbound the audience, and a hush descended over the hundred thousand crowds. Her rendition of 'The Cuckoo Cries' is hundred per cent on Valerie's, and when she finished, there was dead silence for five seconds before spontaneous applause. The cheering went on for ten minutes. All the time, we waved to the audience and then walked off stage.

We heard two weeks later, Valerie was throwing a party while Helen's live concert was in progress, and several guests wanted to watch the show on the large screen TV. Upon hearing the final song, Valerie went crazy. Using a champagne bottle, she smashed the TV screen while guests scampered out of the building. Leaving her alone with her anger. It was reported Valerie attempted to sue Helen for singing what she felt was her song only to find out she had no say who could sing it as I had written it.

********

With the announcement of Helen's pregnancy of our first child, I decided we needed a private place - our place by the sea, where we could get away by ourselves from the hustle and bustle of the Estate.

Unknown to Helen and Stephanie, I purchased the small defunct Bronti Villa resort. Built overlooking Whitsand Bay within walking distance of the beach. The Villa sat on some fifteen acres of land hidden from view of the small nearby village. It faced the sea having a sizeable paved forecourt at its front with deck chairs to partake of the ocean view. At the rear, there was a private swimming pool, patio and gas bar-be-que.

The Villa had two bedrooms sharing an ensuite on the lower floor, with a large well-appointed kitchen, big dining room, lounge, media room, etc. The upper floor had a small TV room and two bedrooms plus ensuite, a large balcony with a seascape view of the English Channel.

Also on the property were six individual self-contained apartments spread around the grounds. Each of the six two-story apartments had two bedrooms and an ensuite for four adults or two single adults or children on the upper floor, each with a small balcony. The ground floor had a small kitchenette, a lounge and toilet-laundry facilities.

I purchased the Villa at a bargain price and then spent near the same sum on doing it up. The finished product was worth the effort. The whole Hazelhurst and Hollingsworth families could come to stay during summer. Helen's and my parents, her brother and his family each would have their own private space. It was all renovated in six months. So we could spend some personal time with our firstborn child and, of course, my riding companion Stephanie.

*********

Our baby boy (Richard Peter Hollingsworth) was welcomed into his mother's loving arms six months later, much to the Earl's delight. With Richard's birth, Syliva abdicated in favour of Helen running the Estate. Syliva quietly confessed she and William never wanted to be the Estate Landlord's, and Helen was much more qualified for the job.

So now we have been blessed with a son; it appears to be a fait accompli. Richard will be required to change his surname to Hazelhurst to inherit the family Estate at the age of twenty-one if he wishes to hold the title of Earl of Hazelhurst.

We had a weeklong stay at the Hazelhurst Estate to introduce Richard to Hazelhurst and Hollingsworth relatives. Then his christening, on Sunday in the Hazelhurst School chapel.

The following weekend I told Helen and Stephanie I had rented a Villa close to the ocean for a week's getaway. Loading luggage into the boot and Richard into his baby capsule, we headed off to our weeklong holiday.

Helen was utterly delighted with the view from the front of the Villa. Stephanie started looking for a room to claim for her own. Richard would sleep in a cot in our bedroom. Helen immediately walked out onto the master bedroom balcony to take in the breathtaking view of the English Channel, letting in some sea air.

After finding her room, Stephanie was off exploring. A short while later, she came running back, asking, "if she could go for a swim in the heated pool?"

So we all put on our bathers and hopped into the pool, including a nude Richard. Later that first evening, I lit up the BBQ, and we had lamb chops and salad. I had a cold beer, no wine for Helen. Stephanie preferred pop and Richard breast.

The week quickly passed with us exploring the seaside and rocky foreshore. We spent days sitting on the sandy beach below the Villa with Richard sitting in the lapping seawater.

On the final evening, with the last rays of the sun bouncing off the few clouds, we found ourselves sitting in deckchairs on the front forecourt of the Villa looking out to sea.

Breaking the silence, I said, "I could do this every weekend." To be met with nodding heads of agreement.

Carrying on, "how about we buy the palace, and we can come down anytime we want?"

Helen said, "is it up for sale?"

"No, it's already sold. I purchased it some nine months ago and had it renovated. What do you think?"

Stephanie was the first to react, "we own THIS?"

"Yes."

Stephanie jumped up and ran over and gave me a hug saying, "what a clever Daddy."

Helen, who was feeding Richard, said with a slight grin on her face, "I did wonder what happened to that six million pounds? Been meaning to ask you about it!"

Then the thought crossed my mind - maybe I'll get lucky tonight?

Every five years, Helen gets together with her closest girlfriends for a Hazelhurst class reunion. This year it was held at the Subway Bar & Grill with some six of Helen's school chums and partners in attendance, myself included.

Valerie, unknown to us, was now the new owner of the Bar. I noticed she kept well away from our table. After dinner before coffee Valerie purposely embarrassed Helen. She walked onto the Club's stage, picked up a microphone and announced, "Who would like to hear Lady Hellen sing her latest song?"

How can Helen refuse after all the clapping from the patrons?

Helen whispered to me as we walked to the sage, and I nodded. I accompanied her on the piano while she sang 'The Cuckoo Cries' - Valerie's top hit song. As soon as Valerie heard the first bar of the song, she stalked into the kitchen and, during the song, proceeded to bang pots and pans around to distract us, to no avail.

Helen's performance received great acclaim from the audience. Valerie exited the kitchen after the song had finished, politely clapping as we returned to our table. I did notice we didn't get any discount on the meal for the recital.

A month later, our family of four decided to get away to our Villa for a weekend. They had both been nagging me for the past two weeks. Regardless of it being winter, it was still an excellent idea to get away.

Helen had little idea of cooking other than boiling water or an egg. Breakfast was a free-for-all, lunch was, come-what-may, and I did all the dinner cooking using the BBQ. So it wasn't such a great holiday for me.

Running out of milk, I headed for the short walk to the village. On the way, walking past a fisherman's cottage, I noticed a sign in the window. "Domestic work wanted - cleaning, washing, ironing and cooking etc. Apply within."

I asked the lady serving in the store as I paid for my milk about the 'work wanted sign' in the window. She explained, Judith's husband, a car mechanic, had been killed when a jack slipped, and he was crushed. Unfortunately, it was proven he was negligent, so his widow didn't receive any insurance payment. As a result, she struggles to live, and her son's wife appears to hate her, so she has nowhere to go.

I knocked on the cottage door. A well present woman, I estimate in her mid to late forties, answered. Age-wise she could be my older sister.

I offered my hand, saying, "Peter Hollingsworth, my wife and I have just moved into the Villa on the hill."

Then, taking my hand, she said, "Mrs Judith Brown, please to meet you."

I expressed interest in her job-wanted-notice. Judith invited me into her well-kept lounge room. To cut a long story short, I suggested she come to our Villa at eleven that morning to interview for the housekeeper job as described on her notice.

Helen met Mrs Brown at the door and ushered her into the dining room, where I was tinkering with some music sheets while finishing my morning coffee.

I greeted her and offered a seat, getting straight to the point, "Helen doesn't cook, and I do most of the cooking when we are here. We come here to relax, and cooking is not my idea of relaxation. So we are looking for a housekeeper to do all manner of things as you describe in your advertisement. But, we both would prefer you live in, would that be a problem?"

Mrs Brown's face went from passive into a grin the more I spoke about the housekeeper job, finishing with a big smile. Finally, she couldn't contain her delight and said, "when do I start?"

Just then, Stephanie ran into the room, saying, "excuse me, I'm hungry."

I introduced her to Mrs Brown, and she immediately said, "how do you do, Mrs Brown."

Judith responded, "I'll start right now, Stephanie - show me where the kitchen is."

Helen and I could hardly contain our joy at finding a local housekeeper who appears to be accepted by Stephanie so readily. Stephanie returned with a tray containing a sandwich and a glass of orange juice. She proceeded to sit at the table and eat.

As it was now nearly noon. Mrs Brown asked, "Sir, Madam, would you like lunch now, perhaps cold meat salad?"

I spoke up, "Yes, that would be nice. However, there is no reason to call us Sir and Madam. Helen and Peter would be fine."

She retorted, "I couldn't call you anything else. You're my employer, Sir."

As Richard was finally eating solid food, Helen could now have alcohol with lunch or dinner.

I asked, "Would you like an aperitif before lunch, perhaps a Pimms, with Indian tonic water and a slice of lemon?"

"Oh yes, please, that would hit the spot, thanks, darling," replied Helen.

Mrs Brown returned a minute late with two plates of cold meat salad. I asked where her plate was, and she responded in the kitchen.

So I commanded, "Well, bring it out and eat with us. You're part of the family now. Please, we insist."

Stephanie responded, "Yes, Mrs Brown, you're my new Aunty B."

From then on, Mrs Brown became known as Aunty B to Stephanie. After lunch and further negotiations, we set Aunty B's wage, and I gave her a credit card for household expenses. She moved into one of the apartments the following week, as her rent for the cottage was due at the end of the month.

********

Some eighteen months had slipped by, and we publicly declared through a small media release for Helen's music fans. "It's with much delight that 'Lady Hellen' announces she is pregnant with her third child."

Helen and I were having coffee in a small restaurant in East London when singer-songwriter Bobbie Williams stopped at our table to congratulate Helen on her pregnancy. I asked Bobbie to join us and proceed to discuss his recent impromptu singing at the Subway Bar & Grill, encouraged by Valerie.

He said, "I couldn't get out of it without looking like a right shit. So I sang but will never enter the Bar again and have warned off all my friends,"

Helen responded, "Bobbie, you realise you performed publicly and are therefore entitled to performance payment?"

A stunned Bobbie responded, "I never considered that."